Do You Floss? Therese Szymanski

"Do you floss?" the beautiful Latina asked, leaning over the table to take my chin in her hand, acting as if she really wanted to carefully scrutinize my teeth.

As a big of geek, I've been known occasionally to attend...Well, it's not really occasional, since this was only my third, and I was totally dragged to the first, which was for a different show that I didn't even watch, so it didn't actually count or anything but... See, I'm not really an autograph hound, and getting a pic taken with someone just 'cause they're a bit famous kinda squicks me a bit and strikes me as being rather odd.

Plus, as anyone who really knows me knows, I'm rather shy and naive, and I hate that I'd probably sound like an even bigger dork than I am to any of these celebrity types. And I'd probably ask the stupidest and most commonplace questions imaginable, if I could even get my mouth to work.

Now my friend Amalia is totally different. She's an autograph/picture/celebrity hound—and she has no problems walking up to them and chatting them up. She gets giddy coming up with good questions to ask them during Q & As. So at the cocktail party the first night of the convention, I wandered around with Amalia, taking her pic with all the celebrities in attendance, even though I was a bigger fan of the show, and had to keep cluing her in to who everyone was—"He played that really floppy-skinned demon who liked kitten poker"—"Oh, god, he played a bunch of different villains—we met him last year in Chicago!"—but then we got to her.

I told Amalia who she was, and I took a pic of the two of them. And there was something about her smile and the twinkle in her eye that made me hand the camera to Amalia as I shyly asked, "Can I get a pic with you as well?"

I hadn't really cared much for her character on the show. She was bossy and opinionated. She replaced a character I really liked, and kicked another out of her own house.

"Sure," she said, sliding an arm around my shoulders and pulling me close.

But the actress was not the character, and I was immediately swept up by her charm, and—oh my god—she was hot, and she was flirting with me!

"I don't think she got it," the actress said into my ear, so I could feel her warm breath on my skin.

She pulled me a bit tighter, so I wrapped my arm around her slender waist, feeling my knees go a bit weak. "Oh, would you mind if she took another?" I said.

"No problem," she said, pulling me in closer and pressing against me. "Why not one more, just to make sure?" she said, smiling at me after the second picture.

"Wow, she was really flirting with you," Amalia said as we walked back to our table.

"So it wasn't just me, then," I said, looking at Amalia and the hets we'd been hanging with that night. "She was flirting with me?" I normally didn't pick up on such things, but I'd thought maybe she had been...I started turning bright red, like someone poured warm... no... hot water over me.

"Oh yeah."

"She was flirting with you."

"Omigod, she so was!"

"Definitely."

She played a lesbian on that TV show.

And now she was holding my chin in her delicate, warm hand, smiling as she admired my teeth (which I know are none too admirable, given that I'd been a smoker for seventeen years and had only given it up seventeen months before).

And then I realized that, with me standing and her leaning over in her low-cut top, I could see right down her blouse. And I, always big with the suave, finally choked out, "Uh, yeah. I do," as I tried to force my eyes back to her face. She had to know what she was doing. And I'm such a butch, folks can ID me from two hundred paces. She was playing me and having fun with me...

So I did it. With just one of those perfectly fabulous, right-on moves worthy of my slickest characters, I raised my hand to hers, bringing her hand to my lips so I could lightly kiss her palm. "I floss daily, as a matter of fact." I looked behind me at Amalia, and at all the other guests who were already assembling to leave the room, apparently for a break before nighttime activities, then back at the woman in front of me. "It looks like we're your last customers."

"Looks like," she said, taking the photo from Amalia's hand, signing it and returning it.

"I'm, um, just gonna get the rest of these people, before they leave," Amalia said, stepping around me to the guests we had not yet gotten autographs from.

"So you're gonna, what?" I said. "Take a break, get a bite to eat, then maybe go to the improv and dance later?"

"I was thinking about it, unless I get a better offer."

"Could I possibly take you out to dinner?"

"Possibly." Again with the teasing grin.

Amalia apparently overheard this, because she hurried back to whisper in my ear, "It's almost eight. If you hurry, you can use our reservations for tonight."

"What about you?" I asked.

"I'll be fine. You just have fun," she said with a wink as she rushed back to get the rest of her pictures and memorabilia signed.

"Have you been to the place down the road yet?" I asked, helping her gather her stuff.

"No. Is it better than this place?"

"Yes."

"Thank god!" Then, as we walked out to my car, "Are you two together?"

"Me and Amalia? No. No, we're not," I said, holding her door open for her.

"Good," she said as I got in. She reached over to take my free hand in hers. Her skin was warm and smooth.

No one at the other restaurant recognized her, so we were able to continue flirting over dinner...and I had the chance to look at her— really look at her. Her thick, black hair was short, but her eyelashes were long. Her lips were full, her smile wide, her teeth perfectly white, and her eyes a warm, inviting dark brown.

She was slender, and everything about her held an air of sophistication. And Hollywood. But she was here, with me.

And I sat across from her and realized I was a writer—I'd created worlds that had journalists calling to interview me about my plays and books. And folks had stopped me to get a pic with me, or an autograph from me.

Not to the extent she had, but...it was different, but still, I had some thought as to how she felt about it all. I could empathize with her.

I didn't cling to celebrities. She was just an amazingly beautiful, attractive, and nice woman.

And we drove back to our building. I looked over at her. "We could hit the improv, or I could just let you go to your room to freshen up, or whatever."

"Tell me, is that what you really want to do?"

"No." I reached over to bury my fingers in her hair and draw her head nearer mine, even as I leaned forward to catch her lips with mine.

"Then what do you want?" she asked between kisses. Her tongue was warm and wet. As I thought other places on her body might be.

I reached down to cup her breast with my hand. "I want to take you to bed." I caressed her side with my hand. "I want to explore you and give you pleasure."

"Oh, god..." she arched up, then grabbed my wandering hand. "Not here, not now."

"Not like this?" I whispered, sucking on her neck, her earlobe...

"Take me to your room," she said.

I didn't have to be told twice. And, in fact, although we didn't touch at all during the walk to my room, as soon as we were safely hidden by that portal, I had her against the wall, one leg wrapped around my hips as she pushed into me, opening herself to me.

"Oh, god," she said, burying her face in my neck. "It's been too long."

I cupped her ass, lifting her. She wrapped both legs around me and I carried her to the bed, kneeling on it before laying her down, and then laying on top of her, between her legs, our lips never parting.

Our tongues dueled. She tasted sweet, but her teasing teeth, nibbling on my lips and tongue, were a sharp alternate. Her skin was warm and she smelled a bit vanilla, and a bit spicy.

I wanted to explore every inch of her—touch her everywhere and make her scream my name. I got that this was a one-time thing, and we'd never be together again, but I'd make the most of these few moments.

I raised myself up on my arms and looked down at her. Her short, black hair was mussed, and her lips were full and moist. Her pupils were huge and she was panting for air.

"I'm so glad you don't just play a lesbian on TVT," I said.

"Shut up and fuck me," she said.

I pushed her legs further open with my own, even as I held her hands over her head, against the bed, with one of mine. I trailed my hand down the side of her face, over her neck, to her breast. I caressed it lightly before cupping it.

I met her gaze as she squirmed under me, in a good way. She was enjoying herself.

"God, you're gorgeous," I said to her.

"I know."

She'd been told this all too often. She no longer understood exactly what it meant. I planned on showing her the truth of every syllable of it. "You're also way overdressed. Sit up." I helped her up, just so I could strip off her plain white top, bringing her bra with it. "That's better." I pulled off her light beige knit hat as well. Even while I looked at her, focusing on her eyes.

But, hell, no matter how noble or shit I was thinking of trying to be, she had really nice breasts—real ones. Not silicone. Not huge, but good handfuls...and hell, I'd been admiring her cleavage all weekend. I had to look at them.

And she leaned back, propping herself up with her arms, all cocky and shit. "Enjoying the view?"

Her nipples got harder every time I looked at them. I ground down on her, pressing myself into her cunt so she had to squirm against me.

"So are you just gonna wriggle like a dead fish, or are you gonna do somethin about this?"

I had to grin. She had quite a way with words, and anyone who knew me knew I had a right hot thing for women with brains. A tart tongue made them even hotter.

I forced both her hands above her head and grasped them in one of mine, using my greater strength and weight to control her and keep her in my power.

I grabbed a nipple between a thumb and forefinger, then twisted and pulled it. Tightly and cruelly.

"Fuck!" she yelled, arching her chest up while I held the rest of her down.

"Yeah, I'll be doing that soon." I leaned down to lick her other breast... all around... till I focused on her nipple, as it hardened further...

Then I caught it between my teeth, biting it lightly as I tugged.

Then harder as I bit and pulled it. Brutally.

And as she cried and twisted under me, I slipped my hand from her left nipple down the front of her trousers, to cup her hot, wet, thong-covered cunt. I lightly fingered her through the satiny fabric.

"I'm gonna let your hands go," I said. "You're going to unzip your pants, pull them—and your thong—down, exposing yourself to me." She pushed against me, struggling against my hold, but I was firm. "Then you will put your hands back above your head—once you are naked from head to knees, so I can hold you down again. Got that?"

"Are you on crack?" she asked. "What the hell makes you think I'll listen to you?"

"The fact that I can make sure nobody pays any attention to your screaming," I pushed my thigh into her cunt and twisted her nipple— hard. "That and, well, I can overpower you."

She moaned and arched up as her eyelids fluttered shut. "No."

"We're in your room. You invited me in. Kinda like I'm a vampire. Now, when I release your hands, what are you going to do?"

"Besides...oh, god...claw your eyes out?"

"Yeah." I kept eye contact as I released her hands, adjusting my weight over her.

She looked up at me, her dark eyes looking right into mine. Into me. Challenging. She'd been giving herself to me up till now, but I'd raised the stakes, working at making fantasies come true.

If this was the only time I'd be with her, I wanted it to be memorable.

She used her now free hands to unzip her jeans and pull them, and her thong, down to her knees. Then she raised her hands over her head, so I could restrain her again, stretching her out to her full length, with one hand.

I looked into her eyes as I ran my hand over her body. As I caressed her perfect body. I cupped each breast, running my thumb over each nipple in turn.

I held her legs open with my body and my own legs. And I reached down to run my fingers up her. She wriggled under me, squirming.

I used two fingers, enjoying how easily my fingers moved in her wetness. Then I slipped the two middle fingers into her as I ran my thumb up and down her. It slid in her slick as I started slowly fucking her. I started playing her clit back and forth with my thumb even as I fucked her, slowly, gently, with my fingers.

She arched into me, panting, even as she raised and lowered her pelvis to bring me deeper and farther into her, then release me.

"Yes, please," she said, then closed her eyes.

I kissed her neck. I bit it lightly, ran my tongue up and down it. And I fucked her. Fingered her.

And then I released her hands. I brought my arm down to hold her—not restrain her, just... hold her.

I raised myself back up and looked into her eyes, which she closed.

"No, baby," I said. "Open them. Keep them open." I started collecting as much of her own lube as possible, coating all my fingers, and the rest of my hand, with it.

She finally gasped and opened her eyes to look at me.

"Do you want it?" I said.

"What...? Oh, god, that feels... so... good."

"Give it to me."

She looked back up at me, then spread her legs even more. She barely had to touch my wrist—reaching down between her legs to do so—before I understood.

I slid my fist up into her.

"Oh GOD!" she screamed, shoving her pelvis up against me.

And that's when I really began fucking her, but still I held her to me while we sweated and looked into each others' eyes.

Her eyes were wide, her arms holding me tight, as she used her legs to release herself from her jeans. "Please, yes, oh god. Oh, fuck me."

And so I rammed my fist into her, repeatedly. I fucked her hard. And I looked into her—meeting her gaze—and... I felt her convulse around me. I saw her come. I felt her come.

For me.

Again. And again.

And then she slowed up so she stopped coming and we both could just be...aware...of my fist inside of her.

I left it there.

And then we had this moment when we both knew I'd hold her all night. That I'd love cradling her body in my arms, spooning her from behind while I cupped her nonexistent tummy with my hand, till she raised my hand to hold it between her breasts...

And it would all be terribly intimate. Even more so then me spreading her wide and fucking her.

I hadn't been with as many women as my rep indicated, and so I really did care to ensure each woman I was with remembered me as an incredible fuck.

And sometimes more.

"Okay, so who should I make this out to?" she said, after asking me if I flossed.

Is that the end?

"Reese."

"Oh, I like Reese's! But I bet you get told that all the time!" (She was obviously referring to the peanut butter cups.)

"Uh, yeah," I suavely said. "One of my friends says if I had kids they'd be Reese's Pieces."

She laughed. Then sobered up. "I'm sorry. That's funny. But I'm sure you're told that all the time!"

She was beautiful. So I shuffled myself along before I could be a bigger ass, and then, at the end of the last day of the conference, Amalia came up to me with the latest anthology I had edited. "Sign this."

"To whom?" I said, taking it.

"Here's the spelling," she said, handing me a program to ensure I got the spelling right.

My hand started shaking. "You're kidding me, right? What do I sign this to? How do I sign this? What better book for a vampire slayer?"

"Yeah, that's it."